Dark Prison
by Child of Mars
Summary: Pandora's Box is a fate worse than death, they say. The most evil creatures to have ever existed are trapped inside it, screaming, struggling, eternally fighting to escape what must be a living hell. After discovering the truth about Peter Pan and what he did to Rumplestiltskin, Neal is determined to rescue his father. But Belle knows there is only one key to the Dark Prison: Hope.


_**Author's Notes: Just wanted to get this out there before the next episode airs. Basically, my dear Rumple's in Pandora's Box. Obviously, he'll get out. But what has he been going through, these past two weeks? He said it was a fate worse than death. What's worse than death? A living hell. So this idea was born. I'm not too happy with this piece and I think its over ambitious and kinda sucks. Feel free to tell me if you agree. Otherwise, please enjoy what you can out of this and thank you for reading and reviewing! :)**_

_**Also, forgive me for any misused nautical terms. Got to apologize...just so darn tired at 1:18 AM and I gave up Tumblr for Advent. I need mercy.**_

* * *

**Dark Prison**

Hope.

It was funny…they'd brought along every kind of warrior imaginable. A pirate, a wizard, a witch…a fairy and a Savior, a knight turned king and a warrior queen…but at that moment, hope was the only thing that kept them standing. It kept their brains moving, kept their blood pounding with a thousand different, desperate alternatives to what lay on the floor between them. Tenderly wrapped in jackets, guarded by his mother by blood and mother by adoption, Henry's pale, cold face stared blindly up at the sky.

Every glance at his son's face hurt, like a sharp punch to the chest that left Neal breathless with pain whenever he remembered what used to glow in that face…dreamy brown eyes under carefully drawn eyebrows, eyebrows he could still see wriggling playfully at him from across a table at Granny's Diner.

A smart mouthed kid with old, old eyes and a wealth of chocolate colored hair…a boy who _looked_ sweet and quiet enough in his neat school uniform and well-polished shoes. But cross the line once, and that sweet kid would climb out of windows and run away into the woods with a hunk of dynamite under each arm. Just eleven years old, and he'd send an old stone well to kingdom come, along with anything else that stood in the way of bringing his family together.

He'd been the real hero of the story…_he_ was the reason Emma came to Storybrooke, the reason she stayed, the reason she believed. He'd saved everybody and, when the time came to return the favor, when all these great royals and magicians came together to save _him_…well, here he was. They'd all failed this one kid as one kid had never failed them.

And it wasn't even Pan and his Lost Boys…it wasn't the fight they'd lost. It was Henry's trust. The kid was so used to being the hero, the only one with his head on straight, that when the time came he couldn't bring himself to step down and be a kid again, to run into his Moms' arms and let go of the fight…because people needed saving.

Henry had been too brave...too brave, and too wise. Something Pan knew all about exploiting, apparently.

Some sort of plan was taking root, growing in the hope that stubbornly sat in their hearts. Talk about finding Pan and taking back Henry's heart. Regina couldn't wait to get her claws on that twisted little demon-boy…she knew all about taking hearts. She was the only one among them, really, who could. At least, her and Rumplestiltskin.

The pain in Neal's chest turned to a sick feeling in his stomach. He grasped the rough, hard surface of a stalactite and closed his eyes as the full enormity of where his father was hit him.

He'd run away.

Jumping through a portal for the sake of _his own son_ was too much…how would a fight to the death for a grandson he barely knew be any different? The master survivor, the coward…he'd dodged the moment he was out of Neal's sight, disappeared in a cloud of purple. Let Henry die, was waiting until they all gave up before he reappeared with tears in his eyes and a gut load of excuses and hopeful promises, begging to be taken back.

Neal felt his hand form into a fist. Because beyond all the pain and tired betrayal and overwhelming, white hot anger creeping up his neck, he was _hurt_. Because Papa had done it again. He might cry and apologize and lie to everyone, even himself, but when push came to shove, his Dad would always choose himself first.

A vague phrase from Charming reached Neal's ears. "I'll carry him…"

_Because Henry was gone, his eyes closed, his face empty…no heart beat within his chest. His beautiful boy would never sass them all or open their eyes to the truth or scare them silly ever again…he was just **gone**._

_And Rumplestiltskin could have saved him._

_**(Didn't)**_

_He should have…_

_**(Wouldn't)**_

_He said he would…_

_**(Lies)**_

_**(Always lies)**_

Neal's fist came up and then crashed down. His knuckles caught at something hard and cold. It gave way and flew off into space before landing on the ground with an echoing clatter. Neal opened his eyes.

Everyone else glanced towards the noise and saw Pandora's Box, lying on its side before the cave wall. Instantly, a question rose in Neal's head, _why did he leave it?_

And the answer? _To keep you safe. To give you a weapon, just in case you had to do what he couldn't. He's leaving you to fend for yourself, like always._

As he went towards it and picked it up, the nerves in his fingertips tingled. Suddenly, the box wasn't as cold as he thought it would be…it was warm, as if it had just left Rumplestiltskin's hands. Wondering if that was indeed the case, Neal glanced around suspiciously, searching for his father's guilty face in the dark recesses of the cave. And as he did so he felt the walls slamming down around his heart. All this time, he'd been fooling himself. He'd been willing, deep down, to give his father the one hundred and thirtieth chance. Because he still loved him.

The first time, Rumplestiltskin had destroyed Neal's life. This time, it was Henry's. There was no going back. No more chances. No more. And it hurt like hell, because he still loved the man he had once called Papa. He still loved him, but he could never, _ever_ forgive him.

Stony faced, he turned back to the group, tucking Pandora's Box under his arm as he watched David sling Henry over his shoulder. The Knight's blue eyes were bright and wet with heartbreak, the way a true grandfather's would be.

Emma's face was lined with pain as she watched him approach. Her eyes went down to the box in his hands. "Where's your Dad?"

"Don't call him that." Neal reached forward and brushed Henry's hair away from his cold face. All he wanted to do now was rekindle the fire that one thrived inside his son, to bring him back and give him the most wonderful life a kid could have. He glanced at Emma, and wished he could wipe out those lost eleven years and burn them to ashes, that he could smooth away the pain he'd put in her beautiful face, restore her damaged soul.

But he could save Henry. He could at least do that. "Let's move."

* * *

_Belle…oh sweet Belle, with her bright smile and her forgiving eyes…she's soft and warm in his arms, free with her embrace, overflowing with love and shining with her belief in his goodness…maybe she's right. Maybe there is something good in him, something worth saving…something worth loving._

_"**Go." **_

_There's ice and stone in his voice and he can't move. He stands like a statue in the dark cell and his heart cries within, clawing at his ribcage, screaming at him not to do it._

_"**Go?"**_

_She blinks. She's hurt, confused…rejected. And the worst part of it all is, she wouldn't even feel that way…if she didn't care._

_"**I don't want you anymore."**_

_He's a liar. He's a coward. He's throwing everything away. Why won't he stop?_

_"**She threw herself off the tower…"**_

_Because of you._

_"**She died."**_

_Torn, stained blue dress. Her body lies broken and cold across the ground. A fine stream of blood trickles from her mouth and across her pale skin like a scarlet thread as she stares up at the sky with blue eyes once full of light…blue eyes that will never see again. The most beautiful, empty eyes he's ever seen…eyes of death._

With a start, Rumplestiltskin felt his entire body jolt sideways, that furtive, defensive reaction to dreams of falling off a cliff. He put out his hands and felt a cold, hard floor beneath him. His skin itched as a thousand hissing whispers brushed against it. _Open your eyes,_ he ordered himself, _why haven't you opened your eyes?_

Then he realized…he had. His brown eyes twitched back and forth helplessly against the living blackness, peering through unbroken shadow that extended for gods knew how far. And then, it all came rushing back to him. He was inside Pandora's Box.

Pan had put him there.

There was no one to save Henry.

He leapt to his feet, stumbling as his sense of direction veered crazily, like a skidding soap bubble. He took one step and felt himself falling….falling into the darkness. With a cry of terror, he stretched out his hands, reaching for something, anything…

_Papa squeezes his chin and changes his voice to make Rumple laugh. With his sleight of hand, he picks hot sweets off of unguarded counters and calls them 'presents'. He lifts Rumple onto his shoulders and runs with him. He calls it 'flying'. He jokingly tells Rumple it's his turn…he leans his body onto him, pushing his son into the grass until they're both wrestling in it, laughing hysterically. Rumple calls it, 'love'._

_"**A child can't have a child, Rumple."**_

_He remembers the terrifying feeling of his feet leaving the ground as a hand that is not a hand, a transparent, black, icy mandible grabs him by the neck and lifts him up. He reaches for safety, for his Papa…he stretches his hands out for something, anything._

_"**I have to let go of what's holding me back."**_

_He feels his fingers sliding along Malcolm's sleeve. His eyes widen as he realizes that Papa isn't grabbing him back, isn't pulling him into his arms, isn't doing anything…but stare at him with glazed eyes._

_"**You."**_

_The pain as Papa yanks his arm away, ripping his sleeve out of small fingers gone white with the desperate attempt to stay with the only person he's ever really know or loved. The shattering feeling as his heart bursts asunder and he watches through blurry eyes, unable to hear anything but his own screams as Papa mockingly waves goodbye. "Papa, no Papa! Papa…"_

"Please!" As the scream tore from his throat, Rumplestiltskin realized he wasn't falling anymore. He was standing…but something was wrong. The black shadows became heavy, pushing down on his shoulders until they were almost…tangible. The hissing whispers grew louder.

He wasn't alone.

_Baelfire…his precious son, the child of his heart. The first person to love him completely and unconditionally…the first and only person to actually need him…to actually **want** him. He would give his baby the life he'd never had. He would make him happy, bless him with gentle sorrow, teach him…love him. He would do so much for his beautiful boy…he would never abandon him like Malcolm did._

_"**Don't break our deal!"**_

_The chubby little fist that once grabbed his nose now holds onto his hand. Brown hair whipped back and forth by the green portal, Bae stares up at him with heartbroken eyes. But even now, he still hopes that there is good in his father, something worth saving._

_"**I have to!"  
**_

_But even Rumplestiltskin knows better. He lied to himself, lied to Bae, to Belle…he knows now what it is that Malcolm saw in him, so long ago…what everyone knows, sooner or later. He's not good enough. Never was. But he wasn't satisfied with that, was he? Desperate to change what he was, he only took it a step further…he took power into his own hands and became something worse._

_"**Papa, please!"**_

_A monster._

_"**Papaaa!"**_

Rumplestiltskin realized he was holding his hand out towards the darkness, reaching for Bae. A black, electric feeling seemed to rush up his arm, etching itself into his very bones as the whispers clouded his mind. Over and over, he saw the same visions, the same nightmares.

Only they weren't nightmares. They were true as day, as true as the light he would never see again. Bae, Belle, Papa…all of them ripped away because Rumplestiltskin wasn't strong enough to hold on, wasn't strong enough to trust in their love for him.

But was it really his _trust_ that was the problem? No. It was _him_. He was the problem. He was the monster.

_Monster._

The whispers suddenly swelled inside his head, ripping through the air as the full-fledged screaming from a thousand bleeding, blackened throats…full of more hatred than Rumplestiltskin had ever experienced in his long, long life.

He slapped his hands over his ears and backed away, lost, directionless…terrified. And yet, even now, memories and visions and words sprang to life in his head and just would. Not. _Stop_.

All of them…gone. _All I ever wanted was to old them tightly, never lose them…_a whimper escaped his throat..._I just wanted to smile at them, to love them…and for them to love me back…all I ever wanted. Was that selfish? Perhaps. Was that wrong? Never._

But another answer came, pouring relentlessly into his brain like a thick, black stream of acid. It ate through his mind, destroying his reason, torturing him with its merciless certainty…_Always. Always wrong._ _Wrong to love. Wrong to hope. Wrong to try._

And he saw them. All the crimes he had ever committed, every moment of cruelty, every malicious trick, every time he'd trampled over innocents, manipulated good people into destroying themselves so he could get whatever it was he wanted from their corpses, from the shattered, ruined remains of their dreams. All of it, red hot, writhing around and around him until his humanity burned away and the scales soldered themselves onto his skin.

His heart was empty…it was a thumping pile of ash that did not love, should not love, could never love. He had committed evil and he'd reveled in evil…he'd been born from evil. He was. Evil. And the pain, the pain of hating everything that he was, of loathing himself but being unable to escape himself…it throbbed in his blood and he gasped, breathless with the agony of guilt and the wild longing to escape, to release his soul…but he had no soul to release, no means of escape…for he was a monster.

The moment he admitted that to himself, he could feel them…fiends, beasts, shadows, demons, necromancers and tricksters, screaming all around him. The shadow and the fire seemed to infect him as he stumbled, constantly moving yet going nowhere. He heard his fellow prisoners howling in agony as their dark essences polluted each other. They were crushed together, sharing their nightmares and guilt and devastation…and suddenly, as he felt the darkness around him buckle tightly…suddenly he realized why it was a fate worse than death.

It all turned on him, like a distant hurricane suddenly moving _inside_ him, tearing him apart…but not dying. Driving him mad. Scattering his essence. Destroying who he was. Rumplestiltskin crumpled to his knees, burning in the inky blackness, clawing at his face and screaming with the fiends…because he was one of them. He saw all they saw, and felt all they felt, and it was nothing but insanity, insatiable regret, and deathless pain.

* * *

The vines bit through Neal's shirt, the sharp, prickly bits poking into his torso as he twisted violently against his bonds. He wondered why it was that he found getting into these situations so very easy.

Regina had disappeared…she'd gone off to hide Henry's body somewhere safe, to cast the preservation spell she'd used on Daniel. The rest of them, led by Emma, had been too impatient to wait. Using their shared pain of loss and abandonment, Emma had managed to wheedle Pan's location out of the Lost Boys who, at their core, were simply that. and lonely and terrified. They told her about Pan's Thinking Tree.

The very tree they were all now tied to.

Peter Pan strutted proudly before them, wriggling his shoulders a little. "It's such a strong heart," he said finally, "the Heart of the Truest Believer…too bad Henry didn't believe in _you_." The last words seemed directed especially at Emma.

Neal felt the rope tighten as Emma lunged towards Pan. "This is my only warning, Pan…I am getting Henry's heart back and I am saving my son!"

Neal never doubted Emma, not when she spoke like that. Pan merely smirked, raising a devilish eyebrow as he turned away from them. "The only place you'll be reunited…is in death."

Neal had dropped Pandora's Box during the struggle. It lay in the grass near Pan's feet. He felt his heart sink into his shoes as Pan looked down and saw it. "Oh, this old thing again…" the cruel boy seemed strangely quiet as he bent down and picked it up. "Like a bad penny…always coming back when you throw it away."

Like a torch that had been suddenly lit, Pan whirled around and gestured at Neal with the hand that now held the box. "Baelfire…where's your father? I mean," He puffed his cheeks out with a breath of air, "those were some pretty impressive threats he made, about dying to save Henry…who's obviously dead instead. Did I miss something?"

Neal shook his head, a sardonic smile on his face as he looked away a moment, trying to control himself. He knew how Pan operated…always pushing your buttons, bruising sore spots, twisting the knife…of course the little demon would want to drive Rumplestiltskin's betrayal home while Neal's soul was still raw from it.

But the truth couldn't hurt…really, the last person you wanted to try lying to was Pan, cruel malice coupled with the terrible wisdom of a child, the kind who sees right through the faults and fantasies of his parents and grows older because of it. A strange quality for the Boy who never grew up…a quality that was nauseatingly familiar to Neal.

"My father's a coward," he said finally, looking Pan right in the face, flashing him a defiant, _I-don't-care_ smile to hide the pain, "he's around here somewhere, probably waiting until the last minute…waiting until the last moment so he can swoop me up and take me away…but he better GIVE UP!" He suddenly roared at the jungle sky, straining against the ropes. Even the crickets seemed to go quiet as Neal expelled the betrayal, the pain, raving at the invisible man he would always love, the man who was nothing but weakness and selfishness and disappointment. The Dark One who let Neal fall and Henry die. "GIVE UP, CAUSE IT'S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN!"

There was dead silence. Emma stared at Neal, shocked. He didn't dare meet her gaze. Instead, he looked at Pan.

Pan eyes were fixed on Neal, but the life and fire seemed to have drained from his features. A few slow seconds passed. Then, a wide smile crawled up his face and a low chuckle escaped him…but the fire didn't return to his eyes. "You know, you don't have to shout…I'm sure he's quite nearby."

He lifted up Pandora's Box, pursed his lips, and blew sharply. The box shimmered and disappeared. Pan dropped his hands and smiled smugly at Neal. "Or not."

Neal's eyes widened in horror and sudden, terrible, understanding.

* * *

_Papa._

Mouth wide open but unable to breathe, Rumplestiltskin heard it, a soft whisper that was almost lost to him, a whisper amidst all that screaming. And yet he'd heard it. He turned slowly onto his side and felt the cold, hard floor beneath him. His head felt like it would explode…it burned. Where was he?

_Papa, come back._

Oh, gods…he was in Pandora's Box.

The blackness turned thick, like a thousand invisible arms that weakly grabbed at him, wrapping around his limbs. A rushing hiss of whispers crawled up his spine, latching onto his mind, whispering to him of pain and loss and self-hatred, and he felt the sick need to listen, to embrace it, to return to it. But his son was calling.

Rolling, crawling, standing and stumbling through the darkness, Rumplestiltskin twisted his body, fighting against the black mass. He stretched out his hands, reaching out…and he remembered how he wished he'd held onto Bae. How he would always wish it. How he would never stop fighting to prove it.

Cold metal pooled against his fingertips. Gasping with relief, breathing for the first time that he could remember, Rumplestiltskin sagged against the wall.

_Papa, I've lost you._

Neal…he was in Neverland, with the others. Rumplestiltskin knew he had to find him.

_Papa, come back._

Splaying his hands out flat on the iron walls, he focused his mind, willing the box to follow Neal, to find him. As the Dark One, he realized the evil around him for what it was, drawing on its power, using it to fuel his magic. Magic is about emotion, he'd told Emma. That part was easy. He wanted to find Neal…he'd wanted to find him for three hundred years.

_Since you let him fall._ The guilt caught him unprepared, rushing into him like an icy flood. Weakness sliced through his knees and he faltered. He stumbled a step away and flung his hand out to lean against the wall…nothing. He'd lost it.

And then, like the awful snap of a rubber band, the darkness, the fire, the screaming, the fiends…they all backlashed into him, filling him, consuming him, destroying him. The words echoed over and over in his ears, reminding him of who he really was.

Failure. **(All of our failures.)**

_Coward. __**(All of our cowardice.)**_

_Guilty. __**(All of our guilt.)**_

_Murderer. __**(All of our murders.)**_

_Monster. __**(Just like us.)**_

* * *

Blindly crashing his way through the underbrush, trying to follow the others even as he wildly pursued his own course, Neal's mind screamed for his father. Begging, apologetic, hoping against hope that he'd find the box again, that Pan hadn't spirited it away to nowhere or dissolved it into nothingness.

Henry was the priority, number one, the only member of the family who hadn't been completely messed up yet…but Rumplestiltskin was certainly second. Neal was ready to beat his messed up, cold blooded, murderous grandfather to a bloody pulp until he told him exactly where Rumplestiltskin was, until he brought him back. With _Pan_ for a father, it made a lot more sense now that Rumplestiltskin became what he did.

"Neal! Neal, over here!" He heard Emma call him and leapt clumsily through the ferns, twisting past Hook and Snow and the others as he came up beside her. She was pointing down with her cutlass. He followed her direction and nearly shuddered with relief when he saw the Box, sitting casually, right in their path.

In an instant, he had it clutched tightly in his hands. Vaguely, his mind whispered, wondering how and why Pan had left it _here_, of all places…or perhaps, _perhaps_…

He moved away from the others, bending his neck as he whispered into the thick, metal surface. "Rum…Papa," he relented, "Papa, you in there?"

"Let me see that," a voice interrupted him as Regina of all people held out her hand for it. This time, however, she didn't snatch it away. As Neal looked up at her, he could have sworn there was something vaguely sympathetic, maybe even kind, in her face. And she was the only magic user left…the only person who would know how to free Rumplestiltskin.

He handed it to her.

Regina held her hand carefully over the top, circling it around twice. The red light glowed softly and her eyes widened, as if it had whispered a terrible secret to her. She turned to Neal and Emma, who had come up behind him. Neal was silently grateful for her presence. She understood him as no one else did, flaws and all.

"He _is_ in here," Regina said finally, "I felt him."

"So let him out. What are you waiting for?" Neal asked, a little sharply.

Regina, however, was used to verbal acid. She spoke slowly, as if trying to get her words through his thick skull. "I could, but it wouldn't work. Your father…" she halted a moment, as if the word tasted strange, "he would suffer permanent damage, come back with any amount of evil forces tangled inside him…he's connected now. That's the idea of Pandora's Box…anyone trying to free one of the evils inside this box would have to contend with _all_ of them…like reaching in for a weapon and getting all of hell. No one could survive the attempt, and so nothing escapes."

Neal's hand flew up to brush down his face as he turned and paced a few steps away. "So, so that's it?" He growled, swinging back towards them both. "That's _it_?!"

"Neal." Emma said gently, reminding him to keep his cool because none of this was their fault. They hadn't forced Rumplestiltskin to face death for Henry…they just hadn't believed him when he said he would. The memory of how they had all raised their weapons against him still gnawed at her stomach. And Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, who could have plowed through them all in five seconds…he'd just stood there looking tired and so, so old…trying to persuade them his intentions were good and true.

Neal looked at her, ready to rage some more. But he must have seen the burden there, the sorrow and worry…the pain he'd done so much to contribute to. It shamed him. He slowly went towards Regina and mutely held out his hand. She returned the box to him.

He stared at it a moment, turning it over in his hands. Somehow, with his father inside, he imagined it would be heavy. But it was light…ridiculously so. And as he held it, he realized it was growing warm again. It had left Regina's hands cold, but in his, it turned warm.

Something painful threatened to choke him. He cleared his throat. "What…what's it like for him, in there?"

Regina looked uncomfortable. "He said…he said it was a fate worse than death. And…with all the evil in there, it must be like…"

"Hell," Neal couldn't even pretend to smile now. A single drop of water appeared on the surface of the box. It ran down past the grooves and wheels, leaving a dark grey trail in its wake. Then it was followed by another.

Regina and Emma withdrew, standing quietly with the others, giving Neal his privacy.

Neal realized what the droplets were. He blinked, his eyes burning, his throat aching as he leaned his forehead against the box and poured his misery into it.

Standing there, alone and bereft in the midnight of the jungle, tormented by what might have been and what should have been, he whispered, too late, how much he loved his Papa and how he had forgiven him again…how he would always forgive him.

* * *

The ship swayed crazily from side to side, tipped by a million hands as every mermaid in the sea flocked to obey Pan, their heartbreaker, bad-boy extraordinaire. They loved him…had always loved him. And now that those intruders on their silly foam-rider had actually managed to retrieve the Heart of the Truest Believer…now they would pay.

And that wasn't all they had to deal with. Pan might not be able to fly, but they were still in Neverland, still in his world. Any moment now, once the storm reached its most violent peak, he would appear. He would steal back the Heart before they had a chance to get it back inside Henry.

It was all happening so fast. Purple mist, cold, wet rain pattering down their faces, lubricating every wooden surface until they were slipping and sliding around it. Everyone was shouting, everyone was firing cannonballs and spears and fireballs into the water, to no avail.

Then, Neal felt someone tugging at the bag strapped around his shoulders. Dropping his spear, he twisted around, catching himself on the railing. Regina swayed before him. "Pan!" she cried, "He's coming! Henry's heart won't be purified for a minute more at least…I can't hold him off by myself!"

Neal knew what she was asking. His voice was hoarse as he spat out seawater, squinting against the downpour. "But you said…"

"Let me try! We _need_ him!" Regina's body pushed into his as the ship's pitching caught them off guard. Without asking, she grabbed the strap. Neal felt a strange, hot feeling through his shirt, and then Regina yanked the pack free.

Wrapping her elbow around a hawser, she fished out Pandora's Box from where Neal had been carrying it safely all this time. In the gloom, all Neal could see was the black and scarlet glow as the thing came to life.

And then, like a poisonous mist, the color bled out into the air. It swirled, hissing where the raindrops hit it. Then, it took shape and form. Neal felt his heart jump into his throat as Rumplestiltskin stood before them on the deck.

"Regina!" Emma screamed over the storm, clutching tightly at Henry's limp body. Up upon the forecastle, a purple cloud shimmered into existence and then quickly faded away, leaving a tall, smug looking boy with almond shaped eyes and a teasing mouth.

Peter Pan wore an angry, triumphant smirk on his face but as his quick eyes darted towards the disappearing scarlet cloud, the smirk dropped off like a rock. Neal had never seen anything quite so beautiful as the pure dismay on Pan's face.

Pan crouched into a protective stance as Rumplestiltskin's lowered head suddenly shot up. "You idiots!" He cried, "You really think this'll work? Do you realize what you've unleashed?!"

"Oh, believe me," Neal heard Regina's smug voice from somewhere behind him, moving quickly towards Henry and Emma, "I do."

Rumplestiltskin's eyes opened just as the thunder boomed. They were black, with writhing scarlet at the center. The Dark One smiled, his teeth jagged and bright as his mouth pulled to one side. He strode forward, towards Neal. Before he even had time to react, Neal felt himself shoved roughly aside. Rumplestiltskin leaned over the rail and clapped a hand to the side of the boat.

Purple light darted from his fingertips in a shower of sparks that scorched the wood before falling into the water below, hissing. There was a collective scream, a thousand siren shrieks that seemed to rip through their eardrums. The ship stopped swaying. Instead, the water began to boil and froth.

Then, dark red began bubbling up to the surface. Rumplestiltskin turned towards Pan. "Oh, hello," it sounded like several voices at once, all of them deep and guttural and massive, echoing from one end of the sky to another.

"P…Papa?" Neal hesitated. Something was very, very wrong.

Rumplestiltskin smirked and shook his head, not even gracing him with a glance. "Not quite. The Dark One, Bajal the Demon, the Nightmare Child…the Six-Headed-Snake, Sanguine the Lady of Darkness…and yes, just a little bit of Rumplestiltskin. It's so…_tight_ in here."

There was a low sound, like a rush of wind. In the blink of an eye, Rumplestiltskin had somehow moved all the way to where Pan stood, staring at him with horrified fascination. Now, he slammed the ruler of Neverland against the mast, lifting him higher and higher until his feet were dangling off the ground.

And yet, the only contact between them was Rumplestiltskin's splayed out hand, pressed against Pan's chest. "So tight. Sorry, _laddie_…there just isn't any room for Peter. _Pan_." He continued in a whisper, a whisper even louder and more terrifying then his former voice had been, "_Shu-go ra-than san-guith par-fon."_

Up until now, Pan had been paralyzed, his eyes wide like a stunned rabbit's. Now, his jaw clasped tight, his head flew back with a crack into the wood as his body jerked and twitched.

Blood began seeping out of the corners of his eyes.

A low hiss rang out from the sky. Pan's shadow shot down like a pouncing eagle, desperate to save its only link with life. Without even turning his head, Rumplestiltskin held out his hand. A black portal blossomed from his palm. The shadow saw, stopped, and turned, hoping to fly out over the ocean and escape.

Rumplestiltskin's smile widened as he jerked his hand inwards. Like a puppet on a string, the shadow was yanked towards him. It gave one, chalkboard-scraping scream before it was sucked into the dark void. Rumplestiltskin closed his hand and, with a rushing murmur, the thing disappeared.

He turned his attention back to Pan, whose struggles were beginning to fade. "Now, _that_ felt good. In fact, this all feels good. It's been so long since I tasted blood…" he narrowed his eyes at the small, twin streams that trickled down Pan's neck. "_Blood_." Slowly, he leaned his head forward until his hair brushed Pan's chin.

Was he going to…to _lick it?! _"Papa!" Neal cried, impulsively.

Rumplestiltskin's head shot around like an owl's until he was staring directly at Neal. His body hadn't even moved and yet his head was backwards. The incredible sight made Neal sick.

Suddenly, Emma gave a hoarse cry. "It's in!"

Everyone had been stunned, unable to tear their eyes away from the dark spectacle. Everyone but Emma and Regina. Neal glanced to where Henry was sitting up, coughing but _alive_, basking in the tears of the two women who loved him most.

When he turned back to his father, he gave a yelp of surprise. Rumplestiltskin's maddened face with its black eyes was less than an inch from his own. The fiendish smile stretched out again. "_This_ is what we rescued?" Fingers with strangely sharp nails suddenly snatched Neal's chin, digging into his skin as it yanked him forwards. "_This_ is the child?"

There was dead silence on the boat. The storm had died away, but a dark, sultry gloom had settled over the ocean. Neal fought to stay still as he stared into that mad face and searched for something familiar.

"Well, it was so nice getting out again…demon's eyes, it was nice. And so were you…_mortal_!"

Neal suddenly found his feet leaving the ground and the wind rushing by. Next minute, something hard crashed and snapped against his back, knocking the wind out of him. His entire skeletal structure seemed to throb with a dull ache as he struggled to get his body moving again.

That hard hand was back. It grabbed his shirt and hauled him out of the mess. He blinked and heard, through the ringing in his ears, a voice surprisingly clear and familiar. "Bae! Oh, gods boy, are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean…rreeaaggghh!" The apology died away into a guttural moan of pain.

Neal managed to stand on trembling legs as his blurry vision cleared and he saw Rumplestiltskin bent over double just in front of him, clutching at himself and shivering like a man freezing to death. Warm, hot relief flooded his system when his father finally managed to stand up and Neal saw that his eyes were clear and brown. "Ok…it's you? You're fine now?"

"Regina!" Rumplestiltskin's harsh scream interrupted him. The Dark One snarled at her like he would at an errant apprentice during a life-or-death situation, still clutching at himself as he turned halfway towards the others. "Where's the box?!"

Regina pulled herself away from Henry and rushed towards them, holding Pandora's Box. "Here."

Rumplestiltskin didn't answer her a moment. He bent over double again, his muscles locking, his face tightening against some horrible pain. Finally, he managed to loosen his jaw enough to grind out, "put me back."

"What, no!" Neal protested, half moving to stand between them. "What are you talking about? We just got you back…you're free!"

"Bae, you don't understand!" Rumplestiltskin shook his head violently. He took a few lurching steps to lean his body against the railing. He looked like he was about to throw up. "I can't…there's things inside me, evil things…I can't control them for long and the moment I stop, they will tear my body apart!" His brown eyes flashed urgently as he finally managed to look up at Neal.

No. Not now, not when he'd just got him back. Neal tried again, grasping desperately at straws. "But it's not those things…it's you. You're back now, I can tell by your eyes."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head sharply, panting now. "Did you…see what I just _did_?! I'm sorry, Bae…I want to. But I can't! It's all…aaauuurgh!" He screamed suddenly, his body flying back as if pushed by an unseen force. There was an audible crack as he hit the railings. It sounded as if his back had been broken. But somehow, he managed to stay on his feet. He threw his head back and looked at the sky, swaying, still clutching at his chest as he laughed bitterly. "It's all too…too beautiful, too free. I feel the…the _need_ to destroy it…and I feel the misery of never being able to enjoy it!"

His body sagged. Barely clinging to the railing, he gazed sadly at Neal. His brown, pain-filled eyes were tinged scarlet. "I'm sorry…you have to let me go…Neal."

Neal's voice broke. "It's Baelfire."

Unable to wait any longer, Regina whipped her hand over the box and it clicked loudly. Rumplestiltskin's body froze, his eyes locked as they stared back at Neal with heartfelt sorrow and longing. The red mist ate away at him until he disappeared. The box snapped shut.

* * *

"_**Let me out!"**__ the screams echo from one side of the black infinity to another, reverberating through the tormented souls, tangled within one another, constantly ripping old wounds open as they struggle to reform as themselves, only to become part of something else. They're constantly torturing each other, shattered and dissolved yet every single piece so horribly, horribly alive._

"_**Let me out!"**__ he feels himself…his goodness…his name, fading. There's no cup, no doll, no nothing to hold onto. Because everyone lets go. He's nothing, a crutch in a corner, a silly name woven into a burnt baby's blanket, a shameful shadow in the mind of a woman long dead, killed by the Dark One._

_The Dark One is pain, and rage, and anguish, and malice, with nothing left in this horrible oblivion, nothing to torment but himself. And the light-starved name of Rumplestiltskin begins to fade away._

* * *

They reached Storybrooke in safety. Henry was alive, Wendy and the Lost Boys were rescued. No one had actually seen the Dark One kill Peter Pan, but it was pretty unlikely that he'd survived both the loss of his shadow and having his internals torn apart. Everyone was home…and safe.

Feeling stupid, Neal nevertheless held Pandora's Box out, high enough to watch Storybrooke as it grew larger and larger ahead of them. He smiled sadly as the Jolly Roger laid anchor. People cheered at them from the dock. Loudest of all were the seven dwarves, who pushed so dangerously close that some of them were in danger of falling into the water.

The Charmings and Henry waved happily to the people below. Hook, Emma, Regina, and Neal stood quietly beside them and did their best to smile.

Suddenly, there was a small commotion as a gloved hand appeared on the railing. Half clinging to the rope, half holding onto the rail, a beautiful pair of blue eyes shone from beneath a waterfall of chestnut colored hair. "Hey! A little help?" She smiled brilliantly at them. Neal suddenly recognized her as Belle, his dad's naughty girlfriend.

Great. He clumsily tried to tuck the box under his jacket.

Emma gave Belle a hand up, but her face was grim as she glanced at Neal. She seemed to be silently telegraphing, _this will break her heart._

Once she was on her feet, the energetic girl smiled warmly at Emma and waved at the group. Her joy was infectious. The moment her eyes alighted on Bae, however, she gave a cry of delighted recognition. "You're Baelfire!" She breathed, rushing up to him.

Seeing his dark look, she seemed to realize something and made a comically apologetic face. "Sorry about the last time we met…I wasn't…" she smiled brightly, "I wasn't _quite_ myself."

Neal knew she was trying to cheer him up. He felt bad he couldn't agree with her but…when your dad was imprisoned for all eternity in a box from hell, you weren't going to crack jokes any time soon. He merely nodded, sniffing briefly as if the air was too chilly.

Belle caught the mood, surprisingly perceptive for someone he'd thought blindly determined to make everyone happy. Her face fell in concern and she peered around at the group. "Where…where's Rumple? Where's Rumplestiltskin?"

No one answered her. Snow tried, "He…"

"There was a problem," Emma took up the challenge.

"Is he dead?!" Belle cried.

"No." Regina cut in. She wasn't trying to be cruel. She was merely determined to break this cleanly. "He's trapped, in Pandora's Box." She pointed at Neal's arms.

Belle's lips parted as she slowly turned, stunned. Neal gazed into her eyes a moment and suddenly, to his shock, saw a warm, beautiful, heartbroken love glowing there. True Love. Mutely, he held out the box.

Staring down at it, Belle reached out and touched it. Her fingers brushed against Neal's and then intertwined as she stroked the cold, bumpy metal surface with her thumbs. Neal felt vaguely like crying as he gazed at the top of her head, wondering what kind of saint could love his father and still be as good as this woman appeared to be.

As their hands clasped the box tenderly, the red light on the top suddenly began to glow. Belle saw it. "Wait!" she cried, startling them. "Look!" she pointed at it. Regina and the others crowded in to see.

A hopeful spark glinted in her face as she whirled around to speak to them all. "The legend of Pandora's Box…the prison that held the most evil creatures in existence! Monsters and demons that could never be released by themselves, never be freed unless you freed them all."

"Which is why we can't free him," Regina sounded impatient, as if she'd given this matter a lot of thought and never found an answer that satisfied her.

Not at all offended, Belle smoothly continued, "But I read the actual legend. The Greek myth. And there was one good thing that came out of that box, something a true monster would never have. _Hope_."

Neal laughed sadly to himself, ducking his head, almost ashamed to meet Belle's optimistic, hopeful face as she turned to stare at him. He felt like a grumpy old man dashing her dreams apart, but he knew life better. He knew how it felt to have nothing go right. "Hope? My Dad's been without hope for a pretty long time," he said gruffly as he gazed at the box in his hands. _We all have._

Suddenly, he felt a warm, tender touch on his chin. Fingers gently lifted his face and he didn't fight it. He met Belle's sympathetic gaze as she smiled sadly at him, feeling his pain yet at the same time wanting to fight and defeat it. "No," she said firmly, raising her eyebrows expressively as she willed him to understand, "it's here. _You're_ his hope."

_You're my happy ending._

Even as he felt hope rekindle in his chest, making it suddenly, beautifully painful to breathe, he protested, "But I…I don't do magic."

Regina looked thoughtful, excited. She paced busily around them a moment. "But you do have his blood…and you're full of light." She clasped her hands together and pointed them at Belle, "Plus you're his True Love!" Suddenly impatient with their stares, she lifted her arms out and turned angrily, "Am I the only one getting this?!"

Emma had been staring thoughtfully at the ground. Now, all the adorable wrinkles in her forehead smoothed themselves out as she took an impetuous step forward. "Together…you have a chance of getting him out!"

Neal felt Belle grab his hand. "We're ready!" She glanced at him and smiled warmly, excitedly…she was going to get back the man she loved. Neal swallowed and, suddenly moved by her kindness, squeezed her hand back before glancing at Regina. "Yeah, we are." He already trusted Belle enough to stick his head into hell with her to find his unlucky father…_yeah, let's do this_.

Regina nodded and reached forward, pushing their hands tightly against the red light before she raised her own hand. She glanced between them. "Good luck," she said quickly, before a single wave of her hand seemed to electrify the box and swirling scarlet mist filled their eyes.

* * *

The first thing Neal felt was a brief sensation of falling, falling until his feet hit a hard surface that echoed like metal. Belle was beside him…he could tell by her little gasp of surprise. He couldn't see her. It was pitch black.

Instinctively, he reached for her, clumsily groping until her hand found his. "It's pretty dark in here…we'd better not let go, like, _at all_." Even as he tried to speak lightly, to make her feel safe, he could have sworn he felt something roll softly up his back, like a wave of shadow that whispered.

Creepy. It suddenly struck him how brave this Belle must be. She hadn't cried out or screamed once, wasn't even asking to go back. In fact, she was actually pulling _his_ hand through the blackness. "Come on…he won't be far. We have to call him," she instructed. Suddenly, she halted. There was a soft, tiny scarlet glow at her feet.

Neal leaned over to see what it was. A straw doll, the simple kind you could put together with some skill and a little bit of material. A common gift for peasant children. Without hesitation, Belle bent over and picked it up.

She rubbed her thumb across it. "This…"

_It's a present,_ something whispered in Neal's ear, _it will protect you when I'm not here. Give it a name, son…names have power._

Belle was staring at him. He could just see her face in the dim glow. "Did you hear that?" he asked. She nodded.

_Peter_. A little boy's voice echoed clearly through the darkness, and Belle gave a little gasp. _Peter Pan._

Neal suddenly understood what this doll was and why they'd found it on the way to finding his father. Rage flared up in his chest. "Son of a…"

Without warning, Belle suddenly covered his mouth hard enough to slap the air out of it. But she didn't scold him. He stared at her, a little stunned.

She put the doll in his unresisting hands. "Save it for later…it won't help," she excused herself. Then, looking as if she was trying not to smile, she turned and started leading him further on.

Neal felt his ears grow hot. Had he just been…chastised? By his Dad's girlfriend/future wife/Neal's possible stepmother?

Great.

"So," he said finally, trying to cover up his confusion, "how did you and my Dad meet?"

"He promised to save my kingdom from the ogres if I became his housekeeper," she said matter-of-factly.

Neal wished he could see her face. "Doesn't sound too bad."

"It was forever."

"Oh."

Suddenly, his foot caught on something soft that dragged along with his step. He bent down and gingerly poked at it…fabric. He grabbed it and stood. Determined not to let go of him, Belle fingered the thing and then buried her nose in it, sniffing. "It…" she halted as if trying to find the right words, "I've seen this before. Fought a pirate to get it back for him…Rumple." She gently pushed the whole thing into Neal's arms. "It's your baby blanket."

"Oh."

There weren't words for the messed up things he was feeling at that moment. Instead, he wrapped the blanket around his neck and, grasping the doll firmly in one hand and Belle in the other, strode forward.

It seemed to be a long, long time and an awful lot of walking before they stopped again. Neal didn't mind. He had certainly had enough to think about. So when Belle crouched down with a cry of delight he came down with her.

It was a teacup. Neal raised a questioning eyebrow at Belle, peering at her in the scarlet glow. "What did this mean, to my Dad?"

For the first time since he'd seen her, Belle seemed to become suddenly shy. She smiled sweetly at the cup, holding it tenderly in her hands. "Our chipped cup."

Neal waited, patiently, for an explanation.

Finally, Belle looked up. "I broke this, the first night I came to his castle. Later, he thought I'd died…and he kept this. He kept it for years. He said it was the one thing he cherished…he told Regina his name so she'd give it back, once."

_There's power in your name, Bae,_ his father told him a long, long time ago, _don't give it if you can help it._

Neal reached forward and touched the cup, running his finger along the rim. Belle let him do it, watching him with a small, knowing smile on her face. Neal looked at her and then, suddenly, smiled back. "He really loves you, doesn't he?"

Belle blushed, and Neal wondered at how she could be such a spiritual powerhouse inside, yet such a beautiful looking girl outside. She was too good to be true. She leaned in and rested her forehead against Neal's like a friendly co-conspirator as she whispered, "I _know_ he does."

Suddenly, her face went blank. Petrified. Neal felt the shadows push at his neck…then he heard them hiss, rapidly blossoming into a chorus of ghostly screams. They both jolted to their feet. Neal wrapped his arms protectively around Belle as the heat and noise began to swell around them as if someone had slit through the black canvass that made up that black world and let all the anguish and hatred and pain seep through.

And with it came another presence, a presence that had been saturated with all the horror they were now sensing. _Rumplestiltskin_.

"Rumple!" Belle's voice startled Neal. She pulled away from him, stepping _towards_ the evil, of all places. "Rumple, we're here!"

A red glow, like fire, began rising up from the floor. It became bright enough to see a few feet beyond, but then stopped at a thick, black wall of shadow that encircled them. Safe in the light, they saw what seemed to be a writhing mass of black limbs, scales, eyes… all of them struggling against some terrible, internal force.

Suddenly, a particular pair of glowing eyes shuddered, floating behind Neal's head and then swooping down by Belle's waist, staring at them. Belle reached out a gentle hand for it. Neal's first instinct was to stop her. Who was this woman, who reached for monsters and called into the darkness for someone who might or might not even exist anymore?

"Rumple?" Belle whispered gently, "Rumple, show yourself."

Silence.

Then, both Neal and Belle gasped, starting back as a black, scaly, smoking hand dug into the ground at their feet. Latching into the surface, it contracted. A body followed, crawling halfway out of the light, crouching there. It stared up at them.

It was just a husk. Dead, black eyes, clothing torn to shreds, a thin human body arched under the weight of the shadow that possessed it…there was almost nothing left of Rumplestiltskin.

Neal covered his mouth. Beside him, Belle spoke. Her voice was thick, as if she was crying. "R…Rumple?"

The coal-black eyes flew hungrily from the cup to the doll to Neal's neck, back and forth and over and over like an automated machine. Belle noticed. Suddenly, she threw her cup, her precious cup, out into the darkness.

The husk snarled angrily. "What are you doing?!" Neal cried, "We need those!"

"No we don't!" Belle ripped the blanket from around his neck and tossed it after the cup. Then the doll followed, disappearing into the swirling shadows with a hiss, as if it had been vaporized and eaten by the nether world. "And neither does he!"

She let go of Neal and crouched before the thing, holding her arms out. "Rumple, it's us. Belle and Bae…we've come to get you out. We want you…we need you. We _love_ you."

The thing merely sucked back into the darkness. The shadows buckled and frothed. Then, it spat out the husk again…only it wasn't a husk. It tottered weakly on its own two feet, blinking in a daze as if unsure where it was. The brown eyes flickered, settling on Belle. "Belle?"

Even as he said it, the darkness writhed threateningly around him, black tendrils shooting out and curling around his body, ready to solidify and suck him back inside itself. He stared at Neal, hurt furrowing his brow. "Bae?" he asked, stupidly.

At that short, simple word, Neal jolted forward, pulling Belle with him. He felt his father gasp as he latched onto his shoulder, squeezing hard, just to make sure he was real. He smiled, trying not to cry as he saw familiar understanding spark in Rumplestiltskin's clear brown eyes. "Common, Papa…we're out of time."

Belle wrapped her arms around them both. Holding on tightly to them, feeling the darkness writhe and tug at his clothes, Neal buried his face in Rumplestiltskin's leather shoulder. A crescendo of shuddering screams flooded the air as everything seemed to realize what was happening…one of them was escaping. One of them would be free, free to roam that beautiful world they hated and desired with all their being.

Then, just like that, a shudder ran up through them all and they disappeared.

* * *

Neal vaguely realized he was lying flat on the floor. Everyone was talking at once. He had someone in each arm…Belle struggled up and stumbled across his legs, trying to get to Rumplestiltskin.

She helped her True Love sit up and smoothed the hair out of his face. He stared at her with wide brown eyes, his brow creased by ages of pain. He swallowed. He tried to speak. The glass shield that held the tears back behind his eyes was brittle, fragile, ready to shatter. He wanted to say so much to her, yet the words choked him. Because for the first time in forever, he was himself again. For the first time in forever, his mind was whole and at peace. Belle took both his hands and, now that the danger was over, began to cry.

Suddenly, Neal swooped in from behind. His arms wrapped tightly around Rumplestiltskin in a bear hug, hands locking over his father's chest as he pressed his cheek against Rumplestiltskin's head. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, rocking back and forth, Neal poured all his frustration and longing and relief into that embrace.

One of the spinner's hands shot up and latched onto Neal's while the other one kept a hold on Belle's. Holding onto both of his loved ones for dear life, holding onto loved ones who would never let him go…his thin chest suddenly swelled with silent sobs as the former Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, burst into tears.

And Pandora's Box, the Dark Prison, lay empty and silent beside them as Hope settled upon the broken trio, blessing them as she had blessed all of humanity since the beginning of time, with a promise of a better future and a dream-come-true of love.

FINIS


End file.
